


I Decide

by OtterMcKilbourne (p_3a)



Series: NaNoWriMo 2015 [10]
Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Emotional Manipulation, Implied/Referenced Mind Control, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-19
Updated: 2015-12-04
Packaged: 2018-03-18 14:57:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3573923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/p_3a/pseuds/OtterMcKilbourne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Times had gone when you would say,<br/><i>This is the one</i> and <i>seize the day</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. You Make Me Nervous

Wrathion’s stay at the Timeless Isle so far had been very, very interesting.

He had to admit he’d come here at least partially because he wanted to spend time with Anduin Wrynn. But there was no small portion of his interest that was based around the island itself and its fascinating properties. A land lost in time in the truest sense of the word… a perpetual sunset, where nothing ever changed. Except for the visitors coming and going, of course. Those born on the island seemed fated to stay there for all of eternity, yet outsiders setting foot onto it seemed like glorious anomalies.

It was all very curious, and Wrathion was amused that the Bronze Dragonflight hadn’t sent emissaries earlier. He smiled to think that his own spy network was truly more efficient than the monitoring of the mighty Aspect of Time, now, that he would notice the unusual island before they did. Still, he’d arrived only what he judged to be a day or so before another dragon with whom he was _very_ much enjoying speaking.

Kairozdormu was… magnificent to look upon, it had to be said. His mortal form was more or less flawless, indistinguishable from any mortal blood elf to any who couldn’t detect the scent of dragon upon him - and even then, said scent was dextrously concealed under the hookah fumes and acrid perfumes one would expect from a true Sin’dorei. Pretty jewellery hung delicately from his ears, toying against his hair as he shifted in animated conversation.

And he was _very_ animated, speaking with great enthusiasm about many a subject that Wrathion himself held interest in. At first, it was at a table in the main court, with Anduin and Lorewalker Cho; but later, Kairoz took Wrathion back to his tent. “To show you something I’m sure you’ll be _very_ impressed with,” he purred, grinning to the shorter dragon.

It was called the Vision of Time, Kairoz explained. “It’s still experimental, but it’s almost entirely complete. Not very likely to explode and destroy the entire timeline at _all_. Maybe a three percent chance.”  
“So in one of every thirty-three timelines, you and I end it all right here?” Wrathion smirked at Kairoz.  
The older dragon’s smile didn’t waver. “Well, yes, but I’m not sure there _are_ thirty-three timelines in which you and I meet like this.”  
“Well, fine. But what does it _do_?”  
“It’s a modified version of the Hourglass of the same name. You’re aware of it?”  
Wrathion’s eyes widened. “You _got_ it?” He looked at the hourglass again, suddenly finding it much more impressive.  
“After Murozond’s defeat, yes. Chronormu and myself have been experimenting with altering the contents, and I found the most interesting thing happened when I placed sand from the beaches here in among the existing sands. Like a glass against the surface of churning waters, it allowed us once more to peer clearly into the past and future - and into alternative pasts and futures, too.”

 _Now_ Wrathion was interested. He looked up at Kairoz. “There must be more to it than that, or you wouldn’t have shown me.”  
“Well yes, of course. It can project those images, as well - and I’ve found something very interesting that I’d like to show you. It’s a rather fascinating timeline for that precious Prince of yours.”

Kairoz grinned at Wrathion, but Wrathion shifted uncomfortably. “He isn’t _my_ Prince,” he said.  
Kairozdormu raised an eyebrow. “Then you don’t want to see it?”  
“Now, I didn’t say _that_.” Wrathion tilted his head. “Of course I do.”  
Kairoz’s grin returned. “Very well.”

The sand began falling from the upper globe of the hourglass with relatively little ceremony, but springing forth from it were echoes of one figure Wrathion recognised, and one which, while not familiar to him, he nonetheless inferred their identity.

Anduin Wrynn, and Katrana Prestor - Wrathion’s aunt.

Only, this Anduin was much older than the real Anduin - or rather, the Anduin that was real to Wrathion, for they were all real in _some_ sense - would ever have been, when stood alongside Katrana Prestor. The dread broodmother had been slain years ago, four years before Wrathion had even been created. And Anduin looked different in other ways, too - he looked… cowed, somehow. Defeated.

They couldn’t hear exactly what Onyxia was whispering to Anduin as she curled his blond hair around her finger in a way that made Wrathion grit his teeth, but perhaps they didn’t need to. He saw the way Anduin’s shoulders slumped; the way his eyes grew dull and hopeless.

“Why are you showing me this?” he asked, rounding on Kairoz.

Kairoz held his hands up. “I thought you would find it interesting. Perhaps suggest a few ways to iron out the kinks; after all, I’d rather like the dialogue to be audible, if at _all_ possible. It wasn’t my intention to upset. Although… I did have a proposition.”  
“And what’s that?” Wrathion tucked his hands behind his back, trying to look at Kairoz and not the spectral Anduin.  
“I could take you here, you know,” Kairoz said, gesturing broadly to the scene. Wrathion still didn’t look at it. “You and enough of your agents. You could kill her, free him, and do whatever you pleased with the results. Would you?”

Wrathion recognised a test when he saw one, and he narrowed his eyes a little at Kairozdormu. He had to think carefully about this. Kairoz could prove to be a powerful ally - or a dangerous enemy. He’d very much prefer him as the former.

He decided to lay his loyalties on the table… sort of. “I wouldn’t,” he said. “The resources spent on such a petty effort would be much better spent elsewhere.”  
“Petty?” Kairoz laughed, light-hearted in a way that didn’t suit the situation. “Rescuing Anduin Wrynn is _petty_?”  
Wrathion grimaced to say it, but he nodded. “In the grander circumstance of things, yes. This iteration of him is clearly doomed. Saving him would not save Azeroth in the long run.”

Kairoz grinned - and although Wrathion felt he had passed the test, he didn’t like the fact that he had no idea what that _meant_.


	2. Something More Than Hopelessness

They spoke much, after that. Kairoz seemed to view Wrathion as a singular ally in a very lonely place, and Wrathion was loathe to dispel the illusion. He did, truly, enjoy spending time with Kairoz for the most part. He had the most fascinating way of viewing problems - there was always a third way, a way to escape the consequences and still reap the benefits. It was an attitude Wrathion himself desired, yet struggled to hold onto; the surety with which Kairoz spoke his pieces inspired him.

The eternal evening of the island was well spent in Kairoz’ company. Where his conversations with Anduin sometimes seemed to stop and start and hesitate and stall, slowed to a stop by their differences, his discussions with Kairoz seemed to flow forth unerringly like the passage of time. They spoke of the war with the Legion, and what it meant to be a dragon in the wake of the Twilight of the Aspects; they spoke of which of the mortal foods offered in the court they liked or disliked, and Kairoz even taught Wrathion how to hunt for the lurid pink cranes which lived on the island. “Very nutritious,” he’d grinned, while the gangly legs of one hung from his half-shapeshifted claw in a manner that would appear uncanny to a mortal.

But they weren’t mortals. That’s why they understood one another, Wrathion decided. They were similar to one another in a way no one else could understand. Not even Anduin.

He had endeavoured not to speak of Anduin to Kairoz, not after the debacle of the first use of the Vision. Yet somehow they always ended up back on the topic. Kairoz would admonish Wrathion for growing so close to a mortal; “you’re bound to live for hundreds of years, you know,” he’d say. “You’ll only be heartbroken when he passes away. You oughtn’t to rely on specific mortals like that. Gather an army of them as you have in your champions. Far more reliable; their children and friends can take over as each individual dies. As ants do, yes? You know about ants, surely. The tavern in the mountains is practically _infested_ with them, and you’re a healthy young whelp. They’re a nutritious snack, after all.”

Wrathion wasn’t sure about that. But he could see the logic in Kairoz’s statements, he supposed.

His concerns were soon assuaged by a return to their usual manner and topic of conversation - politics and philosophy. So it was with more or less complete surprise that Wrathion went to Kairoz’ tent one pretended morning to find him playing with the Vision of Time again.

“Kairozdormu,” Wrathion said, cautiously. He’d grown wary of this device, over the time they’d spent together. “What, dare I ask--”  
“Wrathion!” He clapped his hands together in delight and went over to guide his companion into the tent, his hand barely touching the small of his back. “I’ve been waiting for you. I have something to show you.”  
“Ha,” Wrathion said, trying not to let his nerves show. “How could I possibly have guessed?”  
“Now, there’s no need to look afraid.” Ugh. He _had_ noticed. “Why, I brought you here to _reassure_ you! Come, sit with me.”

Wrathion sat. Something was the matter, he just knew it. Was this going to be about Anduin again? Or something else?

Kairoz seated Wrathion on the short bench at the end of his bed, then stood from it himself to begin the sands in the Vision flowing.

The projection sprang to life. Anduin was in it, again, and he was in the throne room again; only this time, he stood tall, proud. As a King. It filled Wrathion’s heart with pride, and for just a moment he dared to believe that perhaps Kairoz was showing him something hopeful.

But Kairoz seemed to have gleaned Wrathion’s little smile, and with a wickedly curt grin of his own, he pointed to the vision. “What _else_ do you see, my little Prince?”

Wrathion leaned forward. There was, indeed, more to the vision. The throne room was shown in its entirety; at Anduin’s right hand was his father, evidently having abdicated for his son in his increasingly old age. The lines and grey hair betrayed the effects of the passing years on the mortal man, and Wrathion felt a pang of sorrow for the thought that those same lines would, as Kairoz had mentioned, cross the face of his-- his _friend_ , Anduin. But that wasn’t what Kairoz was pointing out.

Kairoz was pointing out a figure that Wrathion hardly recognised, at first. He was small, stiff, and vacant; stood at Anduin’s left side, staring into the middle distance without so much of a flicker of the eye as the line of petitioners moved up to greet their King. It became evident that the man was being mind-controlled. And although every part of him struggled to deny it, it was evident that the man was Wrathion himself.

He’d had his hair cut short - likely not of his own choosing, for he much preferred it as long as it would grow. His clothing was unrecognisable; purely Stormwind garb, and practically that of a servant, too. Every part of his appearance, from the flat vacant stare to the lion-emblazoned tabard claiming his chest, screamed that this version of Wrathion _belonged_ to Anduin Wrynn in mind, body, and soul. No freedom - and certainly no love.

“He wants to control you, you know,” Kairoz said. “Like this. He wants you to be his little pet. His little tool to achieve his goals with.”  
“That’s not true,” snapped Wrathion, more harshly than he meant to.  
Kairoz didn’t seem phased, or taken aback. “Do you deny it, my friend? Is he not frightened by your confidence; disapproving of your choices?”  
“He has every right to be, as I have right to disapprove of his! Both of us are _free_ to--”  
“But _are_ you?” insisted Kairoz, resting a hand on Wrathion’s arm without asking and making him jump backwards on the bench. “Has he not performed such feats of mind-control on other individuals before?”

...that was true. Wrathion frowned, not looking at the vision or at Kairoz. How… _would_ he know?

“There’s more,” said Kairoz with a lilt in his tone of voice - and Wrathion’s heart only sank as the older dragon turned the Vision again, and another, different projection began.

At first, Wrathion couldn’t tell what was being projected. It seemed like nothing but swirling clouds and dust. But then something emerged out of the strange fog; an image of…

...himself?

Only… he looked different, somehow. Something about his appearance unsettled him; sure, he was _older_ , but there was something else as well. Something… something…

“I just wanted you to know,” Kairoz said, surprisingly close to his ear, “how lucky you are.”  
“What?” Wrathion recoiled, glancing between Kairozdormu and the vision. “What is this?”  
“Why, it’s you, Wrathion.”  
Wrathion looked at the vision again, wrinkling his nose; he knew _that_. “Then why show me this and not a simple mirror, Kairozdormu?”  
Kairoz laughed; light, easy, and not at all inkeeping with the seriousness of what he said next. “Why, in _that_ timeline, you’ve gone quite mad! The way of your father, in fact.”

Wrathion stared in horror as the vision changed. The clouds beneath his adolescent drake form parted, and he watched his ghostly self dart down into the gap. He could see it now; the madness in his eyes, the unsettling edge to his skin, as though it were rippling unnaturally whenever one were not looking directly at it. Down below were… ruined buildings, but… yes, he could see people moving about between them. Running for what little cover could be had; tents would provide no shelter from a dragon’s fire, he knew. His heart sank as he watched his future self bathe the ruins in fire and send the mortals scattering; screaming.

Like ants. They looked like ants.

“You see,” Kairoz said, “I thought perhaps it was best to illustrate exactly how important I am to you. Without meeting _me_ , this is what becomes of you. A mindless beast like your father before you.”  
Wrathion tried to speak, to muster a snap or a snarl at Kairozdormu; but he simply sat, dumbfounded. How could he-- how could Kairoz have done this? They were friends, were they not? Surely friends didn’t-- or… well, he had to admit he didn’t really _know_ what friends did. But he knew for certain that friends were supposed to bring one enjoyment, and this… this was not that. This was something else entirely.

How could he? How could Kairoz have thought this appropriate? How could _Wrathion_ have fallen for this trap?

“You see?” Kairoz prompted, but Wrathion stayed in resolute silence. “It is _vital_ you and I work together.”

Wrathion nodded. But in his head, he was already trying to find the third way.


	3. Another Chance to Fix

Garrosh’s trial was, it had to be said, very trying indeed.

For starters, Alexstrasza was here. Alexstrasza! Of all people! Wrathion knew it was because they were planning to call her for testimony; surely she were arrogant enough, as the rest of the old Aspects were, that she wouldn’t attend without a specific purpose. But the fact she was here posed a rather large inconvenience to him, and an unpleasant one at that. She had, after all, condoned his torture and capture when he’d been a mere egg, let alone a whelp - at least by negligence, if not by explicitly approving it. He didn’t particularly fancy asking her to find out which.

So he’d been avoiding her. But there was something else making it rather trying indeed, as well.

Kairozdormu had been meeting with Wrathion every day. And he had a plan.

Wrathion was, in all honesty, beginning to doubt Kairoz’s very sanity. He was intending to break Garrosh out of gaol on the last day of the proceedings; not, in and of itself, a terrible plan. But then there was the fact that he was involving Thalen Songweaver, the… ugh, the practical _megalomaniac_ who had set the mana bomb on Theramore. And on top of that, he was planning to get the Dragonmaw involved. Of all people! The _Dragonmaw_! Wrathion had certainly made his concerns about _that_ one heard - “ _we are **dragons**_ , Kairoz! Did you _forget_?! They’d just as soon enslave us as aid us!” - but Kairoz had insisted he had the matter taken care of, and had admonished Wrathion for doubting him. The not-so-subtle hint that he would have Wrathion incarcerated for corruption by the Sha of Doubt was all Wrathion needed to know about Kairoz’ opinion of his input.

But then there was the final straw - the thing that made Wrathion utterly doubt any of Kairoz’ proceedings, despite their apparent merit.

Kairoz had persuaded Wrathion on-side with this plan by convincing him of the existence of a certain device on the alternative Draenor he planned to take Garrosh to which would aid Wrathion’s fight with the Legion. To get there, Kairoz would open a rift, take Garrosh through it as bait, and the rest of Azeroth would follow as soon as they could find the means - Wrathion could stow away with them, get in touch with his champions once more, and retrieve the artefact for use. But it was Kairoz’ plan for ensuring himself and Garrosh weren’t immediately _followed_ through that rift which was the sticking point for Wrathion.

He planned to bring alternative universe selves of the Alliance and Horde’s best heroes, into Azeroth, to delay them - and maybe even drive them to such despair that Kairoz and Garrosh would have more time to work their… ugh, _whatever they were planning_ against _whoever they were planning it against_. And the universe he had chosen for Anduin was…

...well, it was truly abhorrent.

Kairoz had shown it to Wrathion, and Wrathion had immediately known that he couldn’t allow this version of Anduin to be brought to Azeroth.

“He found out about Bolvar too soon, you see,” Kairoz crooned, wrapping his arm around Wrathion’s shoulders in a way that made him want to stab him. He was fairly close to doing so, in all honesty. “It more or less ruined him, the poor little darling, and he ran away to Northrend to try and see if he could free his dear Bolvar from his prison. But you and I both know there’s only one way to do that…”

Wrathion looked upon the tiny frame of a fourteen-year-old Anduin Wrynn, the tattered red cloak trailing out behind him; the Lich King’s helm sat heavy on his little blond head.

“...indeed,” Wrathion said. But he was frowning, and of course Kairoz noticed.  
“You have _doubts_?” he asked, the false sweetness in his tone hiding his frustration. Wrathion saw the latter, now, lurking there under his tone. Ready to rear its head at any moment. So Wrathion treaded carefully, and tried to balance his words similarly - sugar-coating enough that Kairoz would find them palatable.  
“I’m unsure it’ll have the desired effect on Prince Wrynn, that’s all,” he said, stroking his beard.  
Kairoz tilted his head, his elven ears folding with irritation. “Prince Wrathion, you ought to know me well enough by now to know that I have already tested the efficacy of this timeline’s emotional impact. It seemed quite effective indeed.”  
Wrathion’s eyes flashed. So _that_ was why Garrosh had asked to speak to Anduin?! He grit his teeth, but continued his bluff. “He is a very emotional person, Kairoz, surely you know _that_. But like his father, he keeps his head in battle better than you might expect. I’d reconsider, if I were you.”

A subsequent trip to speak with Anduin had only confirmed Wrathion’s suspicions - the universe Kairoz had chosen was far too close to home with Anduin, and would leave far too much lasting damage for Wrathion’s tastes.

Wrathion had forgiven Anduin for his behaviour on the Timeless Isle already. The other Prince had acted jealously, coldly; had outright stated once or twice that he didn’t like Kairoz. But he’d never explicitly _asked_ Wrathion not to spend time with him, let alone _demanded_ it. And now Wrathion felt he understood much better why Anduin had behaved so coldly towards Kairoz.

And so he’d fallen back into considering him, loosely, a… friend. As much as he could have a friend. He suspected that his own emotions lay in a vein far more intense in nature - but if he could barely maintain a _friendship_ for fear of allowing his duties to fall by the wayside, what hope could he possibly have for sustaining something that would require even more of his energy? No - he couldn’t be Anduin’s lover, or anything of the sort.

But he could be his friend. He could… he could try. Try and protect him from the things he could never understand; or at least from the consequences of things he couldn’t stand to learn about just yet. He could protect him from this.

So it was with renewed determination that he returned to Kairozdormu the next day with mind to convince him that another universe was the one he ought to take the Anduin doppelganger from.

For he didn’t believe he would be capable of persuading Kairoz to ditch the plan entirely. He seemed to have his mad heart set on it quite firmly, and Wrathion didn’t want to lose his privileged front row seat to the chaos - chaos that, from this position, he could hope to contain. But he could certainly minimise its impact. Yet the more he thought about it, the more certain he was that he would have to sacrifice some aspect of this. Either Kairoz’ continued cooperation, Anduin’s safety, or…

...yes. It was clear. He knew what he had to do.

“The universe you showed me back on the Timeless Isle,” he said, drawling the words so’s to give them a casual air. “We could always take that one.”  
Kairoz wrinkled his delicate nose and scowled. “What, the one that _mind-controlled_ you? While despair-inducing to _you_ , my little whelp friend, I don’t think--”  
“No, no!” Wrathion made a frustrated little gesture with his hands, then breathed out firm, calming himself. “The one where his father died and allowed Onyxia control of his kingdom.”  
“Oh.” Kairoz stared, then tilted his head. “Oh… _ohhh_ , yes. That makes _far_ much more sense!”  
“It does, doesn’t it?” Wrathion straightened his back, packing determination into his every mannerism. “I believe he shall find it very difficult indeed to accept a version of himself who _gave up_ when faced with hardship; why, I’ve spent several months discussing the merits of courage and the drawbacks of _softness_ , and he becomes quite aggravated indeed when the topic is so much as mentioned. I’ve practically done your work _for_ you,” he smiled - hoping Kairoz would accept the gift.  
Kairoz frowned at the last - “now, don’t get ahead of yourself,” he said, and Wrathion felt the scolding settle as self-hatred in his heart. But that wasn’t the important part. The important part was that Kairoz took the bait, and - “I’ll certainly consider it,” he eventually decided. “Yes. Yes, I think that could work quite nicely indeed with the right preparations. Do carry on.”

Kairoz waved a hand, and Wrathion recognised that he was being dismissed. He left Kairoz’ quarters and shapeshifted to his whelp form, finding somewhere in the temple ceiling to nest until the next episode of the drama in the courtroom was ready to unfold.

It was a bittersweet choice of universe. It would likely tar Wrathion’s own name; and Wrathion knew he would have to confront Anduin in the basement beforehand, delaying his ascent to the main chamber as he’d discussed with Kairoz before. Anduin would suspect - no, likely feel he had the grounds to _confirm_ Wrathion’s cooperation with Kairoz. He was laying his reputation on the line, here; and without Anduin to vouch for him, he could be repairing it for a long, long time.

But he knew Anduin had the strength to overcome any momentary effects that universe would have on him. They’d discussed it a thousand times before, and they both knew the wound had been worn smooth by now. It wasn’t raw and festering, like the loss of Bolvar Fordragon; it wasn’t volatile, like Anduin’s fear of becoming the next Arthas Menethil. Yet it still appeared to be a wound, and that was enough for Kairoz.

Maybe it would even help Anduin in some way. It was a long stretch, but perhaps giving Anduin grounds to speak with his father about their relationship… to thank his father for taking care of him… would strengthen some of their weakened bond. Wrathion knew Anduin had come to resent his father for needing more taking care of than Anduin could really afford to _give_ him, and perhaps helping Anduin to realise that Varian _did_ care for him, and _did_ make things better for him, would help to absolve some of that bitterness. Or maybe it would make it worse. It wasn’t as though _Wrathion_ had a functional relationship with a father to compare it to, he thought, with a wry lash of his tail.

Somehow, though, the arrogant manner of Kairozdormu didn’t phase Wrathion any more. Knowing that the older dragon would meet his downfall from below, at the hands of someone he despised, someone he’d dismissed, someone he’d treated so cruelly… that Wrathion had contributed to Anduin’s chances of defeating Kairoz himself… made Wrathion far more at peace with Kairoz’ plans than he had been in a long, long time.


End file.
